Sea Shanies
by Sarcasticles
Summary: A series of one shots inspired by different songs, featuring a variety of characters and situations. T blanket, individual rating will vary. Chapter 6: There are many rules to remember on Mariejois, but to one little girl who has just been sold there is only one that matters: There are no unhappy slaves.
1. Birth of a Hero

Musicbox: _Simple Man_ by Lynyrd Skynyrd (the acoustic version by Shinedown is pretty good too)

Character: Usopp

Rating: K+ for one swear

Spoilers: None, unless you are unaware of the secret identity of a certain masked hero from Sniper Island

* * *

Usopp sat at the kitchen table, drawing. He was concentrating _very _hard on his task. When he was done he would show it to Momma, and maybe she would smile. Hopefully it would be a real smile, not the strained, fake one that he usually saw. Momma didn't smile for real much anymore.

His picture had turned out great. A masked hero wielding a giant slingshot made a dramatic pose. The hero even had a cape (a red cape. Red was a nice, heroic color), and Usopp knewwith a child's intuition that his mother would love it.

Something didn't seem quite finished, though. Chewing on the end of his crayon, Usopp tried to figure out why. Nothing came to mind, and he shrugged. Inspiration was tricky sometimes. Idly he scribbled some grass in the background.

Nope. It still looked wrong.

"Usopp? Where are you?" his mother called from upstairs.

"In the kitchen!" he shouted, still contemplating his drawing.

A moment later Banchina entered the kitchen. Her face was pale, except for two bright red spots of color high on her cheekbones. There were dark circles under her eyes (Momma was so _tired _all the time, even when she slept all day), but a playful smile still danced on her lips.

"Ah, there's my little man." She bent down and hugged Usopp and looked over his shoulder. "And what's this? A vigilante?"

"Momma!" Usopp shrieked, mostly for show. He loved it when she squeezed him tight like this. "It's a _hero_!"

"Who wears a mask?" Her voice was disapproving. "What sort of hero wears a mask?"

"The cool kind," Usopp mumbled. "Besides, what if he needs to protect his identity?"

"Hmm, I suppose you have a point. Either way, it's very good." Banchina kissed the top of his head, making him squirm.

"I made it for you! His name is…I dunno know what his name is yet…but he's the best, most awesomest hero _ever._ If he takes one hundred shots, he'll hit his target one hundred times. His sniping is so good he can hit the eye of a mouse." Usopp reenacted a shooting motion. "_Lock on_!"

Banchina giggled. "Oh, Usopp. You sound like your father. What was it he always said?"

Usopp puffed out his chest and answered in a deep voice, "'_I can shoot the whiskers off an ant'_!"

"I wasn't aware ants had whiskers."

"Oh, they do," Usopp said earnestly, "Teeny-tiny ones, that can't be seen 'cept with a microscope! Once, though, in the woods I saw a giant Queen Ant and hers were _huuuge _so I got a good look."

"Someone's telling stories again," Banchina said, cocking an eyebrow. Suddenly she turned her head and began to cough violently. Usopp scrambled out of his chair and filled a glass full of water.

When she finished, Banchina accepted the water with a smile. She patted Usopp's head fondly, but the mood was ruined. Looking down at the floor sullenly, Usopp scuffed his shoe.

"Momma, when're gonna get better?"

Banchina looked stricken. "Usopp…" She let the word trail off, unable to find the words to comfort her son. Instead, she swept him into a bone-crushing hug. Her skin felt hot and feverish, and Usopp couldn't make himself melt into the embrace like he usually did.

He glanced to his picture, setting precariously on the edge of the table. A _hero _could make Momma feel better. Someone who was big and courageous and brave could beat up her ugly cough and make sure it never came back. But Usopp was small and weak, and didn't know what he was supposed to do to help.

Dad would have known, but Dad wasn't here.

"Let's go sit on the couch," Banchina said, loosening her hold. Seeing her son's gaze, she sighed. Grabbing the drawing, Banchina led Usopp to the den. She situated herself on the old, broken-down couch and pulled Usopp on her lap. Holding the picture out in front of them, she looked it over with a critical eye.

"What makes this man a hero?" she asked.

"Well, he's got a mask and a cape…and a really cool weapon. Don't all heroes have those things?"

"Anyone with a bit of cloth and a little ceramic can have a cape and a mask, and anyone with some money can buy a weapon. That doesn't mean that anyone can be a hero." Banchina pointed to the masked man's chest. "It's what's in here, Usopp. It's what's inside that counts more than anything else in the world. Don't let anyone tell you different."

Usopp twisted around so he could look at his mother. "I don't understand."

"Most don't. People will say things when they don't understand, or do things just to hurt someone else." Banchina wrapped one arm around Usopp protectively, and her voice became distant. "The most important thing is that you follow your dreams and that you're satisfied with the man you grow up to be."

"Like Dad?"

"Yes, just like your father. He's out following his dreams right now, and I couldn't be more proud of him." Banchina smiled, but Usopp thought it made her look sad for some reason.

"What's your dream?" he asked suddenly.

Her smile widened, and a devilish spark twinkled in her eye. "Taking care of _you_, little man, is a dream come true. Even if you do cause a few headaches every once in a while," she added.

"Momma!"

"It's true, but I love you all the same," Banchina said, kissing Usopp's forehead to cut off his indignant cries. "Trust me."

Unable to think of a reply, Usopp settled back into his mother's lap. Putting his head to her chest, he could hear her breath rattle as she inhaled. That scared him. The doctor wouldn't come to their house, and herbs and old wives' tales would only do so much.

"When I dream, I dream of being a sailor, one that's brave…and I dream of you getting better and seeing Dad again." Usopp blinked back tears. "Is that stupid?"

"Dreams are never stupid," Banchina murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "Just remember, before you can go off saving the world, you have to be satisfied with the kind of man you are on the inside." One of her hands slid to his chest, right over his heart. They laid like that for a long time: Banchina eventually falling into a light sleep, and Usopp soaking up his mother's love.

The picture of the masked hero with the slingshot and red cape slipped to the floor, still incomplete, somehow getting pushed under the couch. There it was forgotten, eventually abandoned for good when Usopp packed for his journey years later.

As a member of the Straw Hat Pirates, Usopp almost died many times. Together the crew went farther and father, meeting giants and fighting monsters, until there came a time he couldn't go on any longer. Usopp had thought when he set sail that he knew what he wanted, but after the disasters on Long Ring Island and Water 7 he wasn't so sure. Something was still missing, and Usopp was no longer satisfied with where his path was taking him.

It wasn't until a fateful assault on the sea train that Usopp understood his mother's words. Seeing the festival mask and the bolt of red cloth, Usopp remembered his childhood drawing. Realizing what had been missing had been inside him all along, Usopp reached for the mask. He had never named the character in the drawing, at the time nothing seemed to fit. Things were different now. His friends were in danger, and he _had _to help, his status as a Straw Hat Pirate be damned.

"Sogeking has a nice ring to it," Usopp muttered to himself. "Yeah, I like that. I'll be Sogeking, King of Snipers."

In the back of his mind, he thinks his mother would approve.

* * *

**AN**: So, new project! Because my brain is strange, I started thinking about songs that represent various Straw Hats. What began as an interesting character study mutated into something that wouldn't leave me alone, which of course meant I had to start writing.

These obviously won't be songfics in the traditional sense, but the songs are where I will get my inspiration for every oneshot posted. I've also got random oneshot ideas that I'll (eventually) get written and post here if I can find music that fits.

As always, reviews are appreciated.


	2. A New Day

Music Box: _White Christmas _by Bing Crosby

Character: Chopper

Rating: K

Spoilers: Time skip shenanigans

* * *

The library was oppressively quiet. Chopper, as used as he was to the rowdy rambunctious nature of the _Thousand Sunny _found it difficult to concentrate. There was no Usopp tinkering with new ammunition, no Luffy orchestrating raids on the kitchen, no Franky dancing to one of Brook's songs. There was just silence.

Chopper didn't like it.

Sighing, the reindeer closed his book. There was no way he could continue researching. He was much too distracted. It was pointless.

Maybe a walk would help. Yeah, that sounded good. That way there was a chance he could find a new herb or something, and then the day wouldn't be a total waste.

Plan firmly in mind, Chopper adjusted the shoulder strap to his backpack and went outside. The sun was bright even though it was cold. Winters were mild in this area of the South Blue, so even though it was late December there was no snow.

"Going out, Chopper?" one of the tribesmen asked.

"Yeah, there's a branch that I want to explore today. I probably won't be back until later, so don't worry about me."

"Okay, happy exploring little tanuki!" Chopper rankled at the term. He was a reindeer, damnit! "And happy solstice!"

"Wait, it's the twenty-first?" Chopper asked.

The native nodded. "Yes. There will be a big celebration tonight, so please try be back before sunset. I know your research is very important, but there will be good food, singing, and stories…"

"Sounds great," Chopper said distractedly. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent! I'll tell the elders." The native bowed. "I'll leave you to your work, tanuki."

* * *

Chopper did not get much exploring done, either. He managed to get halfway up the giant tree before giving up. Instead he sat on one of the branches and looked out at the ocean, wondering how his friends were doing.

Presently, one of the giant birds of the island landed beside him. Chopper greeted him with a half-hearted smile and turned his attention back to the sea. The crystal-blue waters shimmered in the afternoon light, and there was no doubting that it was a beautiful sight. It just wasn't the sight Chopper wanted to see.

"Caw?" the bird asked, cocking his head worriedly.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just thinking about stuff."

The bird glared at Chopper. "Caw."

"I know…it's just…did you know it's almost my birthday?"

"Caw!"

Chopper blushed as the bird ruffled him affectionately with his feathers. "Thanks. I'll be sixteen in human years. I can't remember celebrating a birthday without snow."

"Caw." The bird looked down at Chopper with big, sad eyes and Chopper had to force himself to smile.

"I'll be fine, I promise. I just think I'd like to be alone for awhile."

The bird nodded and took flight. Chopper looked back to the ocean, thoughts on the friends that he had been forcibly separated from.

He remembered Robin saying that sixteen was an important birthday for some cultures, the time where boys became men. Chopper had realized on his journey that growing up didn't magically happen on a certain day. Heck, he had done more maturing on Skypea than a lot of people did in an entire _year_. But still, birthdays were things to be celebrated with friends and family. Doctorine had never really gone out of her way to pamper him on December twenty-fourth, but she had at least acknowledged the date's significance. The native islanders and the giant birds were nice and all, but they weren't his _crew. _

Plus, there was no snow. If Nami were here, she would have made snow.

Feeling more and more melancholy, Chopper flopped on his back. He was moping. What a terrible way to spend the day. Part of him couldn't help it, his overactive imagination coming up with the perfect birthday party. There was Brook playing all of his favorite songs; Sanji cooking all his favorite foods (in addition to whatever Nami and Robin wanted). There would have been dancing with Franky and games with Luffy and Usopp, with even Zoro playing along because that's what Chopper wanted. And maybe when everyone was tired, Robin would have told a story, preferably a happy one instead of the creepy ones she liked to tell.

Too bad he was stuck here and his friends where out…somewhere. Hopefully having a better day than he was.

A gust of wind ruffled Chopper's fur. The sun was just beginning its descent through the sky. Remembering his promise to join the festivities, Chopper began to shimmy down the tree. Already the pulsating beat of drums could be heard as the native people celebrated the shortest day of the year.

Despite himself, Chopper smiled. Even if the celebration wasn't for him, he could pretend. His friends wouldn't have wanted him to be sad all the time, anyway. It would be good to at least try and enjoy himself.

And enjoy himself he did. As promised, there was plenty of good food, music, and stories. Chopper tried to remember as much as he could so he could share it with the others when they reunited. The party went all night, to the point where Chopper could hardly stand to keep his eyes open. Finally the tribesmen gathered themselves around a fire pit, and an elder stood. Hush settled over the camp, and Chopper leaned forward, listening intently.

"Brothers, sisters," the old man began, his voice hoarse with age. "We gather tonight to celebrate a time of rebirth. In ancient times our ancestors fought against the elements, and we were ignorant and proud.

But we have not remained that way. We have sought wisdom, as evidenced by the tomes collected in the great library. But this year we have taken another step in our journey. Thanks to our new ally from the outside our war with the birds has ended and our people can begin an era of peace. For that, Tony Tony Chopper, we are all thankful."

Chopper, not expecting the praise, blushed furiously beneath his fur. Wiggling in glee, he muttered something about not being pleased at all. He was ignored as everyone had turned their attention back to the elder.

The man cleared his throat. "Now, as is tradition, let us all uphold a moment of silence as we welcome in the new day."

He stepped down and rejoined the circle around the fire. Chopper didn't know how they did it, but as soon as the old man sat the last of the flames burned out. Fidgeting, Chopper was tempted to say something, but everyone else was deathly silent.

Just when he thought he couldn't take another moment, the first rays of sunlight peeked above the horizon. Chopper gasped at the beautiful sight. The ocean looked like it was holding molten gold, and the sky had streaks of pink and purple that mixed with the last vestiges of the night blue.

"Wow…" Chopper breathed.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, isn't it?" one of the younger children stage-whispered.

Moment of silence over, the Torino natives broke the circle laughing and talking. Chopper remained transfixed. He had seen sunrises before, but this one seemed especially pretty.

Maybe this place was a rebirth for him as well. Maybe when Chopper reunited with his friends it would be like the sunrise. There was a big, wonderful metaphor in the idea, but Chopper was much too tired to think it all the way through. All he knew was when he met Luffy again, he would be strong, a worthy doctor for the pirate king.

He might even be a monster.

Chopper yawned and made his way slowly to his room. He wasn't sad anymore. He still missed his friends, but he figured that was okay. But moping wasn't allowed anymore. There was important work that needed to be done, and just a year to get it done.

The Straw Hat Pirates might not be present to celebrate birthdays together, but they were in one another's hearts.

* * *

**AN**: Apparently April showers bring May snow storms in my neck of the woods (o.O)

Fun Fact: _White Christmas _is the highest selling single of all time with over 50 million copies. It was super popular with WWII soldiers, and the Armed Forces Network was bombarded with requests as the lyrics resounded with the soldiers on the front.


	3. A Mother's Song

Music Box: Rock a Bye Baby (although Usopp refers to Hush Little Baby)

Characters: Various

Spoilers: Ace/Luffy backstory stuff, I guess

Rating: K+

* * *

_Damn Garp to hell_.

Dandan scowled into her sake cup. She hadn't wanted one brat, let alone two. Now, with the addition of their little 'friend', she was stuck with _three_. Dammit! She was the fearsome leader to a troupe of mountain bandits, not…whatever the hell Garp thought she was.

Her only consolation was the idiots liked sleeping outside. Whatever, it left more room for the rest of them.

Downing the rest of her cup Dandan went to check on the little punks. Not because she was worried, no, she couldn't care less what happened to them, but they had been silent for far too long. Unless someone had tied Luffy's lips together again, silence meant they were _scheming_.

Dandan didn't think she could handle the aftermath of their schemes again.

The fire pit had burnt down to smoldering embers, and the night was brisk. There, lying sprawled out like the idiots they were, Dandan's three charges slept. She couldn't hold back her gasp of shock, and Luffy turned over with an impossibly-large yawn.

"Is't morning already?" he mumbled.

"No, go back to sleep!" The little beast was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Dandan knew if she didn't do something quickly he would be wide awake, and it would be impossible to get him to back to bed.

Without thinking Dandan began to hum an old tune she remembered hearing in a festival once. Her voice could hardly be called calming, but Luffy immediately closed his eyes. After a few minutes he began to snore softly, fast asleep.

With a sign of relief, Dandan went back inside. No, she didn't care about them. Not one iota. But even she had to admit that when they weren't out raising hell the little assholes were kind of cute.

* * *

Nami was inconsolable.

Bellemere, running on three hours of sleep, cradled her daughter in her arms. Nojiko, thank God, was somehow managing to sleep through it all. That was good; at least one of them was getting rest tonight.

It was getting to the point where Bellemere was beginning to second-guess this whole motherhood thing. She loved her girls dearly, but she had to be doing something wrong. No human being could possibly cry so loudly unless they were dying.

"Hush, Nami. You're safe. Mommy's here," Bellemere cooed as she rocked back and forth. Nami's breath hitched, and she let loose another wail. Damn it, what was wrong? The kid was fed, she didn't have a wet diaper, and there was no temperature…

"Bell-mere…" a soft voice whispered behind her. Bellemere turned and saw Nojiko hunched by the doorway, her face pale.

"Hey, what's up? Thirsty?" Nojiko shook her head no, clutching the doorframe so hard her knuckles were white.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Bellemere asked over Nami's crying. Biting her bottom lip, Nojiko nodded, and Bellemere sighed. Poor kid, she still had nightmares about the terrible battle that had destroyed her home.

Shifting Nami so that she had a free arm, Bellemere pried Nojiko from the door. Taking Nojiko's hand in her own, Bellemere led her back to her small bedroom. She rearranged the covers, and soon the three of them were crowded in the small bed.

Bellemere didn't really know any good bed-time songs, so she settled for an old marine tune that wasn't too inappropriate. Finally Nami calmed herself, and Nojiko fell back into a restless slumber.

Unable to untangle herself without waking them up, Bellemere shifted to make herself comfortable. Maybe she could figure out the whole motherhood thing out after all.

* * *

"Story, story! I wanna story!"

Banchina looked down her long nose at her son. She didn't know any more stories and didn't have the energy to think one up tonight. She gave him a wicked smile.

"Hmm, how 'bout a bedtime _song _instead? How's that sound, Usopp?"

He thought about it for a moment. "…Alright! You have the best-est singing voice in the whole _world_. I know, 'cause I went to a contest that had all the good singers, but they weren't as good as you!" he exclaimed, bouncing with energy.

She laughed. "I think you've inherited your father's talent for flattery, but thank you anyway. Now, to bed, or there'll be no song."

Usopp hopped into his bed, snuggling deep under the blankets. Sitting at the foot of the bed, Banchina began to sing, and didn't even make it past the second verse before he interrupted her.

"Mom! That doesn't make sense! Why would you buy me a diamond ring? Only married people get diamond rings!"

In the end Usopp got his story, as Banchina was forced to think up of an explanation for every line of the increasingly ridiculous lyrics of the lullaby.

* * *

Chopper dozed fitfully in the infirmary, still recovering from his disastrous transformation. Of all the ill-conceived, stupid, _dangerous _things the boy had done, this was by far the worst. He was lucky no one had died.

The reindeer stirred, and Kureha was by his side immediately drawing up medication to keep him sedated. When he had changed into that monstrous form he had nearly been torn apart. Now Chopper's body needed to recover, which meant Kureha was up around the clock administering drugs for pain and rest.

"Idiot son," she admonished, injecting the drug before Chopper could say a word. After taking a moment to check his IV, Kureha went back to her desk.

Her hands shook, but whether it was from exhaustion or fear she had no idea.

"Hydrogen, helium, lithium…" Kureha half mumbled, half sang the old song that had helped her memorize the periodic table of the elements in school. As far as comforts went it wasn't much, but it was all she could think of. Someone had once said she had a bedside manner of an ice-witch, a sentiment Kureha was forced to agree with.

Out of habit Kureha counted Chopper's respirations from her chair. It was probably just the sedation, but his breathing slowed. The reindeer let out a contented sigh and drifted back into blissful unconsciousness. Kureha finished her song and rubbed her forehead, trying to relieve the tension that had built up over the last few days.

"Idiot."

* * *

"…The end."

Olvia shut the book of children's tales. Robin, from her spot in her mother's lap pointed to the cover, her eyes tracking over the letters of the title. It was almost as if she was reading them, but Olvia didn't think that was possible. According to all the books she was much too young to be doing something as advanced as _reading_.

Then again, Robin had started speaking in full sentences earlier than what the books claimed, so what did she know?

"Oh, love, what am I going to do with you?" Olvia asked, running her fingers through her hair. Robin tilted her head back, looking at her quizzically. Olvia smiled.

She had her father's hair.

"Let's go to bed, shall we?" Olvia picked up Robin, settling her on one hip. Robin didn't protest as she did some nights, instead content to play with the necklace Olvia wore.

Climbing the stairs to the bedroom, Olvia sang an old song that Clover had taught her years ago, used in some distant land to ward off night spirits and bad dreams. Robin yawned and wrapped her arms around her mother, setting her head at the nape of her neck. Gently Olvia broke her grip and laid her in bed, tucking the covers under her chin.

Then Olvia went to the study, pulling out a book that could get her executed if the Government ever learned of its existence. There was rumor circulating around the Tree that a research group was going to sea, and if that was the case she had to be prepared.

* * *

The crack of a gunshot went off in the distance.

Rouge closed her eyes, suppressing the tears that threatened to fall. Another one gone. Another baby dead, never to have the chance to grow up and _become _something. All at the hands of those sworn to protect…

Her child kicked. The little one was a fighter, already protesting the injustice that surrounded his existence. Rouge hugged her over-large belly, trying to give some comfort as they hid in the dark, dank cave.

Well, she had heard once that babes began to hear on the womb, and considering how long Rouge had held out the pregnancy it made sense that the child would be able to hear her voice.

"I know it's hard. Just let me protect you while I can," she whispered, before laughing at the absurdity of the statement. Rouge laughed because if she didn't laugh she would sob, and if she began to cry she didn't think she would ever be able to stop. The kicks slowed, and Rouge began to hum a song. It was one Roger sang to her once, slow and peaceful.

Quietly Rouge sang to her unborn child as the world around her descended into madness.

* * *

The baby babbled happily, blissfully unaware his surroundings. Makino pulled out one of the bar stools, grateful for a chance to ease her aching feet. Today had been especially busy, but it was over and she was tired.

"Yes, yes, it sounds like you had a lovely time," Makino said with a smile. She had never really understood parents who cooed at their children in high falsetto. It had to be horribly patronizing to the child, and it made the parents sound like an idiot.

"Ma! Ma ma ma mamamama!"

Makino giggled. "I can't tell if you're trying to say something or if you like the way it sounds."

"Mamamama!"

"Of course. I agree completely."

With a grunt of effort Makino picked up the baby. He was already fed would probably fall asleep within the next half hour. It was time to go home.

"You've grown so fast," Makino said quietly. "To think, a year ago…" she couldn't finish the thought. Forcing a smile that no one was around to see, Makino hummed a lullaby.

"Ma ma mamama mmmmmaaaaa!" the babe sang along, and before long Makino was laughing, all cares temporarily forgotten.

* * *

"I'm home!"

The three princes rushed to greet their mother. Manboshi's hug was so strong in threatened to knock Otohime over. The queen kissed each of their foreheads in turn, and made her way to the throne room. Neptune was holding Shirahosi, and the baby was fast asleep.

"How was your day?" he asked quietly.

"The same," Otohime replied with forced cheerfulness. The three boys trailed behind her, each looking up with hopeful expectation.

"Darlings, it's late. Shouldn't you be in bed?" she asked, feigning indignation.

"Father said we could stay up and wait for you," Fukaboshi said. Otohime flashed a questioning look at her husband. Neptune didn't say anything, but she could tell he was unrepentant. He thought Otohime pushed herself to hard, especially so soon after the birth of the baby, and was willing to use underhanded methods to ensure she got home at a reasonable hour.

Otohime smiled. His worry was sweet, and perhaps she _could _stand to come home a little earlier.

"Alright, darlings. I'm back, and it's bedtime." They groaned. "No buts. Princes need to get their rest, lest they fall asleep during their lessons. Get ready for bed; I'll be back in a bit. Just let me say goodnight to your sister." They swam off obediently, and Otohime turned to her husband.

"How was your day? Really?" Neptune asked.

"The same as always, dear," she replied honestly, this time allowing the tiredness to creep into her voice.

"You shouldn't work so hard. Queens need their rest, just as much as princes."

Otohime laughed softly, brushing some of the hair out of Shirahoshi's eyes. "I wish you could feel it, Neptune."

"Feel what?" he asked.

"The hearts of children. The thoughts of babes. They're so remarkably…uncomplicated, unpolluted by what plagues us adults. I wish I could recapture that and give it to the people." Otohime sighed. "It would make things so much simpler."

Neptune looked at her helplessly, unsure of how to reassure his wife. Otohime hugged Shirahoshi and sang the ancient lullaby that she remembered from her own childhood. Shirahoshi shifted, turning closer to her mother's voice.

"What's she thinking about now?" Neptune asked when Otohime finished.

"How much she loves her father," Otohime half-teased, "And how her mother needs to take up singing lessons."

"Otohime…"

The queen contemplated how to answer his question. "She's dreaming whatever it is babies dream, Neptune. For all my skill, that's something that's beyond my comprehension."

That seemed to satisfy him. After another round of hugs and kisses, Otohime left to see to the princes, who were sure to still be awake waiting to be tucked in.

Otohime sang each of them a song, quietly soaking in their youthful innocence. It was funny; she was the one who was supposed to teach them how to be responsible rulers, yet they were the ones who reminded her day after day how to keep searching for a brighter future.

* * *

**AN: **Fun Fact: Although the source of the lyrics to 'Rock a Bye Baby' are somewhat unclear (there are, like, five theories as to how it came about), it's entirely possible that it originates from when the Earl of Sandwich's son was tossed without warning from his cradle, and the cradle was found in the Thames River, empty.

…Or it could possibly be traced back to the earliest poem written on American soil, based on how the birch-bark cradles the Native American's used, which happened to be suspended in trees, rocked back and forth in the wind. Which, as far as origins go, is perhaps a smidge more cheerful.

Happy Mother's Day everyone.


	4. A Father's Will

Music Box: _I've Been_ _Watching You_ by Rodney Adkins

Characters: At least 34. No, I'm not kidding

Rating: K+

Spoilers: Backstory stuff for basically every character who has a dad/father figure

* * *

Garp crossed his arms, looking stoically across the room at his son. Dragon's face was impassive-hardly a new development-and in his arms there was a squirming bundle of cloth.

"Father."

"Dragon."

The bundle let out a rather loud cry, but Dragon made no move to comfort the child. Garp grit his teeth, resisting the urge to go over and smack his wayward progeny upside the head. Lovingly, of course.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Garp barked.

"I'm here to ask something of you," Dragon replied smoothly.

"The answer's no. I told you years ago when you…chose your path…that we would be enemies."

"You would abandon your own grandson?" Dragon asked quietly.

"My…what?" Garp sputtered. He took a second look at the swaddled baby, and let out a choked laugh. "You had a kid?"

For some reason he found the very idea hilarious. It was impossible to imagine Dragon allowing himself to become close to anyone, let alone…

Suddenly the idea wasn't so funny.

"You had a kid," Garp repeated somberly, "And you want to leave him with _me_?"

"We have philosophical differences. That doesn't mean you're not a capable father when you remember your responsibilities." There was the barest hint of accusation in his voice, and Garp's face fell.

"Dragon…"

"No. What's past is past. Will you do it or not? It's not safe for me to be out in the open like this."

Indeed it wasn't. "What's his name?"

"Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy."

Garp went over and relieved Dragon of his burden. Carefully Garp rocked the infant, whose crying stopped almost instantly. When he looked up again Dragon was already gone, following the winds of his destiny.

"I'll do better this time," Garp said to himself. "You'll be a good marine, with a strong sense of justice and the power to back it up. I won't screw it up this time. I…I can't screw up this time."

The promises cycled through Garp's mind as he hurried to find someplace warmer, as did the memories of a little boy with wild hair and infectious smile who he failed all those years ago.

* * *

"Dad?"

Koshiro adjusted his glasses and looked up at his daughter. She was sweaty and dirty from training, but he still spared her a small smile.

"Yes, Kuina?"

She hesitated, clutching her bamboo practice sword. Licking her lips Kuina glanced out the door where, judging by the excessive noise, Zoro was still training.

"It's nothing. Never mind," she mumbled. Koshiro's eyebrows furrowed together in worry, and he watched her turn to leave. His heart ached for the days where Kuina would come to him for anything. Now she was so _distant_, and the gulf between them was growing every day. His wife said it was something that every girl went through as they grew up, but Koshiro wasn't so sure.

"Kuina, you know you can come to me about anything, right?"

She paused at the door, eyes fixated on the training yard, thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Yeah Dad, sure."

Then she was gone, determined to dole out her thousand-and-something defeat to her rival. Koshiro watched her, immensely proud of his daughter's skill. The way of the sword came so effortlessly for Kuina, and as Koshiro reflected on days gone by where he would go through forms with her, he desperately wished things could have turned out differently.

* * *

He found Nami sitting by Bellemere's grave, alone and shivering. Without saying a word, Genzo slid next to her, trying to keep his heart from breaking as her hand instinctively went to cover Arlong's mark.

"Are you…are you okay, Nami? Have they hurt you?"

The question was wholly inappropriate. Of course she wasn't okay. Of course she was hurting. But he still had to ask. Nami's pinched, drawn face fell, and she gave a small nod.

"You don't have to pretend you like me," she whispered. "Arlong's nice, I promise. He gives me money, and I have a bed all to myself. I'm fine."

Genzo drew a breath to ask why, if Arlong was so kind, it looked as if she hadn't eaten in a week. Then he let it go in a resigned sigh and closed his eyes. Nami was trying to cope, just the same as everyone else.

"I—I have to go," Nami said suddenly, scrambling to her feet. "I…"

"Go," Genzo said softly. She passed him, looking obstinately at the ground. "And Nami? Don't worry about us. We're all fine, too."

She didn't quite run away, but she did rush down the narrow path fast enough Genzo was worried she'd twist an ankle. After a paying his respects to Bellemere, Genzo stood. He walked the path at a much more reasonable pace, and took the turn that led him to a small tangerine farm.

He found Nojiko at the kitchen table, alone and shivering. She heard him enter and snapped her head to attention, eyes wide in fear until she saw who it was.

"Gen…"

"She's fine, Nojiko. I saw her just a few minutes ago. She's safe." He left off the _for now _that they were both thinking.

Nojiko's whole body relaxed. "Good."

Genzo waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Suddenly the little house seemed very empty and foreboding. He thought of her sitting at the kitchen table with nothing but her fears for company. It seemed like an impossibility, but Genzo's heart broke a little more.

Nami wasn't the only little girl who was hurting.

He extended a hand and forced out a smile that was meant to be comforting. "Come on, Nojiko. You're staying with me tonight." She nodded solemnly and allowed him to lead her out of the empty house.

Genzo didn't care if the effort killed him, he wouldn't rest until he saw Bellemere's girls smile again.

* * *

_Ping! Ping! Ping, ping, ping!_

"Five for five! Atta boy!"

Usopp lowered his slingshot, looking up at his father proudly. Yasopp ran over and reset the old tin cans. He sauntered back and winked at his son mischievously.

"Now, the question is can you do it with your eyes closed?"

"What? That's impossible, Dad!" Usopp laughed with childish glee.

"Nothing's impossible!" Yasopp boasted. Snatching Usopp's toy slingshot out of his hand, Yasopp gathered a handful of stones. Making a great show of it, he lowered his bandanna over his eyes and juggled the rocks around in his hand.

Quick as a flash he loaded the slingshot and let off his first shot. Then in rapid succession he released four others, unaware of Usopp's growing grin as he hit his targets with a tinny _ping_! Raising his bandanna back over his eyes, he looked over at his handiwork.

"See? Nothing's impossible, just gotta practice."

"That's so _cool_! Let me try, Dad, let me!"

"Go for it!"

Later Yasopp stood shamefaced in front of his wife as he was forced to explain how exactly their son had shot a rock through their kitchen window.

* * *

"No! No, no, _no_! You shitty Eggplant, I said _low _heat! Does it look like this is low heat to you?"

Zeff glared down at his charge, who glared right back. "You geezer, it tastes better this way!" Sanji shouted.

"And what do you know about taste?" Zeff asked, moustache twitching in indignation.

Sanji glowered, then in one swift movement spooned up some of his dish. "Try," he challenged.

Grabbing the spoon, taking care not to spill any, Zeff looked at it critically, then he took a deep breath, smelling each individual flavor.

"Just eat it!" Sanji cried.

There was a crash from the dining room, and Sanji made it out the door before Zeff to see what the problem was. A well-muscled man hovered over a table that had been flipped over, brandishing his steak knife towards a terrified looking young couple.

"I'm Anders, captain of the Dead Beat Pirates, and I told you to hand over the woman!" the man with the knife shouted. The couple trembled in fear and the rest of the dining hall was silent, breath collectively held in apprehension.

"I said hand her ov-ARRHG!" The pirate howled in pain. His attention on the woman, he hadn't noticed Sanji calmly walk up behind him, and had received a kick in the balls for his oversight.

"That's no way to treat a lady," the little eggplant said coolly, "And when you flipped the table you ruined your food. I won't forgive you for that, no matter what."

Zeff intervened before Sanji could get himself stabbed or something equally annoying. After kicking the idiot pirate overboard, the pair returned to the dining area to a standing ovation. Sanji helped the still frightened woman to her feet, and Zeff took the opportunity to sneak back to the kitchen unawares. Sanji's dish was still simmering, and Zeff took a quick bite, chewing slowly so he could get the entire flavor profile.

Zeff never said anything to Sanji about it, but the dish made it out on the menu.

* * *

"Pirate."

Dragon rolled the word off his tongue slowly. Through the pouring rain he watched the marine base. From his vantage point on top of a neighboring building he had a good view. Apparently the captain with the logia power was going to give chase after all.

Dragon knew he could not stop the marines again tonight without bringing undue attention to himself. He had given Luffy enough of a head start to make it to the Grand Line unimpeded, and that was enough for now. His son was strong, Dragon could feel it in his very bones, and things would turn out all right in the end.

It seemed Luffy had things pretty well figured out for himself, even without the guiding influence of a proper father. That gave Dragon no small satisfaction. He had tried to give his son his best possible chance, putting him in the custody of his hero grandfather, staying out of his life completely, remaining anonymous...

And, as fate would have it, Luffy had chosen a path of freedom. It wasn't the sort of freedom Dragon fought for, but it was freedom nonetheless.

"Straw Hat Monkey D. Luffy, pirate." A wicked smile cut across Dragon's face.

It was perfect.

* * *

Hiluluk suppressed a cough. His little charge was finally sleeping peacefully, and he knew if he made a single noise that Chopper would awaken. The little reindeer had gone through so much trouble, so much hardship, that the quack doctor would do anything to give him a little rest while he could.

In the semi-darkness Hiluluk made his way towards his own bed. After trying, and succeeding, to treat Chopper's wounds he needed some rest of his own. God only knew how the ache in his bones grew heavier as those long first days had worn on, but it was worth it. Chopper was safe. Chopper was healing. That was all that mattered.

Stubbing his toe on an end table, Hiluluk couldn't help but let out a soft swear. Chopper turned, letting out a small whimper. Hiluluk froze, and the whimper turned into a choked sob, and the choked sob turned into another choked sob, until the little reindeer was weeping quietly into his pillow.

"Hey, Chopper," Hiluluk said as he made his way over to the reindeer's pallet. "Chopper, it was just a nightmare."

Chopper jerked, covering his head with his hooves. "I'm sorry," he said in a harsh whisper. "Please don't hurt me."

"No! I would never hurt you, I'm your friend, remember?"

He sniffed, clutching his hat and pulling it over his face. "I'm a monster. People hurt monsters."

Hiluluk rubbed Chopper's back in what he hoped was a comforting way. "No. We're friends, and friends don't hurt friends."

Nothing else was said for a long while as Chopper blubbered softly into Hiluluk's side. Hiluluk's heart wrenched in empathy. He knew what it was like to be hated, to be feared. It was terrifying, and Chopper was a child, a reindeer-human hybrid child, but a child nonetheless.

"You're so nice," Chopper said finally, "Why aren't more people nice?"

"It's because their hearts are sick," Hiluluk said hoarsely.

"You're a doctor, can you fix them?"

"I'm trying, Chopper, but there's no cure for a sick heart, at least not yet."

"Your experiments," Chopper said tiredly, finally having worn himself out from crying. "Can you find a cure?"

"There's nothing that can't be cured," Hiluluk said, feeling rather numb inside.

"Then I want to help." Chopper yawned. "You're the nicest, best doctor in the world, and I wanna help."

Hiluluk grinned as Chopper fell back into a peaceful slumber. "Then I'll teach you everything I know."

* * *

"He did _what_?!" Cobra nearly exploded with fury. Kneeling down, he brushed some of the hair from Vivi's face. An ugly bruise was starting to form, all the evidence he needed to confirm his daughter's story.

His rage would not be contained. The King of Drum would pay. How dare that bastard strike Vivi when his quarrel was with her father?

"The king hit me, Papa, then I said I was sorry for being clumsy. Did I do okay? I don't want anyone to fight because of me!"

Cobra looked at Vivi helplessly and then up at Igaram. The king's hands slid uselessly down to his side, and his anger melted away.

"Did I do the right thing, Papa?" Vivi repeated, face tight with worry.

Then Cobra knew. He couldn't retaliate against Wapol, not without taking away from what Vivi had done. The King of Alabasta had to be the bigger man and let the whole thing go, or he would be a poor example for his daughter.

Wrapping Vivi in a hug, Cobra smiled. "Of course you did. You acted like a queen today. If your mother were here, she would be proud, but since she's not you'll have to make do with me instead."

Vivi sniffed and returned the hug wholeheartedly. "I just did what I thought you would do, Papa, even though it hurt really, really bad."

Cobra had no response for that, save to tighten his hold.

* * *

The former Mr. 9 looked at his wife, the ex-Miss Monday, in shock. It was only because of her strong hands grasping his shoulders that he was even standing.

"Could you repeat that, baby?" he asked weakly.

"You're going to be a father," she said, and despite her grip she seemed to be just as scared as he was. "I—"

He interrupted her with a passionate kiss, and when they broke away from one another for air he was grinning like an idiot.

"I can't believe it," he breathed, looking into his wife's eyes with wonder. "I'm going to be a daddy."

* * *

"Still digging, huh?"

Toto looked up through the haze. Seeing his son, he dropped his shovel and scrambled through the sand, stumbling in his haste.

Kohza dropped his bags and braced himself as Toto nearly tackled him with a hug. Things had changed so much, and guilt welled up within him.

"Dad, I'm so sorry. You were right. You were always right. What can I d—"

"Shut up, you great oaf," Toto interrupted, voice thick with emotion. "You're home now, and that's all that matters."

* * *

Pagaya looked in to the small kitchen where his daughter sat, deep at work. She had been doing…something, he didn't quite know what and she wouldn't say, for several days now. He was beginning to worry.

"Conis? Are you all right?"

She lifted her head, blinking her eyes serenely. "Of course, Father. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that you've hardly spoken for a week, and you haven't touched your food," Pagaya gestured at her lunch plate. "Is something wrong?"

Conis laughed. It was a light and musical sound that reminded Pagaya of his late wife. Pulling out a chair, she invited her father to join her at the table.

"I guess my little project's consumed my brain. I didn't mean to make you worry, Father. Truly I didn't."

Pagaya breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, I'm almost finished, actually. You can look if you want." Conis pushed a piece of drafting paper towards him, and Pagaya felt his jaw drop in shock.

"A waver? You're designing a waver?"

"A different sort of waver," Conis said in agreement.

Pagaya traced the design with a finger. It was well done, highly practical and sturdy. The dials were spaced well so that the thrust wouldn't affect the balance of the machine.

"You see," Conis continued, "I made the hull a little thicker so that it's harder for the waves to upset a rider, and there's one less dial than normal. In sacrificing speed and agility, it's likely to be much safer than what's available now."

"Yes, it's very good. I confess, I'm a little surprised. I didn't think you were interested in engineering," Pagaya said.

She flushed a bright pink color. "Well, I'm not. Not really, I guess. I don't know." Conis buried her head in her hands. "It's just, there was a little boy who was out the other day and he hit a wave wrong and almost _drowned_. I just thought…I just thought if there was a safer model available for novices, something like that wouldn't happen again. Besides, I've seen you fix wavers long enough, I've picked up a thing or two about how they're made."

Reaching over, Pagaya pushed away her hands. "That's amazing. If you'd like, I can present the design to the Engineer's Guild for you."

"You'd do that? You don't think it's stupid, or…or…"

"Of course it's not stupid, Conis."

The relief on her face was palpable. "Oh, thank you, Daddy. Thank you!"

* * *

Calgara didn't know what to say. She looked happy, more so now than he had ever seen her. His daughter's radiant smile was brighter than a guiding star, and even as the warrior knew that his life would never be the same, he couldn't help but be glad.

"Mousse…" He couldn't help but stare, everything from her carefully done hair to her dress was absolutely perfect. Never before in history had there been a more beautiful bride.

"Father," she said shyly.

"Don't worry. I've already told that man of yours that if he ever makes you unhappy I will skin him alive," Calgara assured her.

"Papa!"

* * *

Tom sat at his drafting table, trying to work through some of the logistics to his sea train. Iceburg was carefully inspecting some of his tools and occasionally shooting Franky an angry glare. The boy was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly. Tom wasn't too surprised; Franky had another one of his ships blow up spectacularly in his face today, and knew from experience that such things could be tiring.

"I don't know why you keep that idiot around," Iceburg muttered. "He doesn't help, he's reckless, he never listens…"

"I don't know about that," Tom interrupted. The fishman noted that the younger boy's breath hitched. Maybe he wasn't quite asleep yet after all. "I told him to follow his heart with a DON, and he seems to do that quite well."

"But _Tom_! He's useless! The way he keeps going, the idiot will turn delinquent and probably _kill _someone with his stupid weapons!"

Tom set down his quill and looked at his apprentice seriously. "Franky needs structure and understanding in his life right now. What would happen if I turned him out? Do you think that, with his skills, he would be better off on the streets?" Iceburg looked away, ashamed. "I didn't think so. Right now Franky is channeling his creativity into something meaningful and productive. Don't try and take that away from him."

"But he never does anything to help anyone else. He's selfish and arrogant, and you never set him straight. It's so…_argh_!" Iceburg shook his head in frustration, not even able to finish his thought.

"Iceburg, just because there's another person living here doesn't mean you're being replaced. I don't care for you less because he's here."

"But…"

"No," Tom said forcefully. "You both have talent, the passion to build ships with a DON. It's shown in different ways, but the two of you are more similar than you would like to think. Franky stays, for as long as he would like. He has just as much right to learn as you do."

Iceburg didn't argue, but gathered his tools and left in a huff. Tom looked over to see Franky lying far too still for him to be actually asleep. The master shipwright shook his head. He had never been the best with words, but he sincerely hoped that Iceburg could grow to look past appearances to see a man's potential. Even the strongest Adam wood grew from a pathetic little seed. People were like trees, they just needed a little nurturing before they could truly reach for the sun.

Then he reached for his quill. There was still a lot of work that was needed to be done, and far too little time to do it in.

The next day Franky didn't immediately start building his new battle ship. Instead he came up to Tom, embarrassed, and asked if he could help with the sea train. The fishman laughed, knowing that the boy had taken a step forward, and directed him to the iron bars that would become the tracks that led them to a brighter future.

* * *

"You're an idiot, you stupid Pineapple Head!"

There was a smirk. "Speak for yourself, Freckles."

"Freckles? _FRECKLES_?! Oh, that is it! Bring it on, you bastard Pineapple Head!"

The crewmembers of the _Moby Dick _did their best to avoid the two Division Commanders as they wrestled around on the deck. Occasionally a streak of blue or orange would flare out as the combatants activated their Devil Fruits.

Things would have been considered perfectly normal until a wayward fireball singed Vista's coat. That might even have been forgivable, until a misaimed kick clipped Thatch on the shoulder. More and more people entered the brawl, and soon it was every man for themself. Even those usually to cool-headed or mature for such antics were pulled in, much to their dismay.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" A voice bellowed. At once everyone who had been fighting sprang apart, pointing to either Ace or Marco as Whitebeard stomped out on deck.

"But Pops, he called me Freckles!"

There was a second of silence as everyone present digested how ridiculous this sounded, especially coming from the famous Fire Fist Ace. A wave of snickers went across the deck, and even Whitebeard had to crack a small grin.

"I don't care what he called you, there's no excuse to raise hell on _my _ship," he somehow managed to say with a straight face.

"But…!"

"No buts!" Marco seemed to be losing control, shaking with restrained laughter. Whitebeard turned to him next. "And you! You know better! Set a better example for your younger brothers!"

"But Pops!"

"No buts!" Whitebeard exclaimed. "Now say you're sorry to one another and cut it out."

"Sorry, Ace," Marco mumbled.

Ace scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, me too. I didn't mean to try and set you on fire. Honest."

Whitebeard nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now where the hell is my sake? I'm thirsty."

Marco and Ace looked at one another, twin grins of mischief spreading across their faces. "You know what this means, don't you?" Marco asked.

"Post-Apology party time!" Ace exclaimed with a laugh. "Someone inform the cooks!"

One of Whitebeard's famous laughs rumbled across the deck.

* * *

"I demand to see my son!" Saint Roswald shouted.

The doctor flinched. "H-He's still in sur-surgery—"

"Then get him OUT of surgery you imbecile! Do you not realize who we are?!"

"I-I do…but we are c-corec-c-cting the d-damage done by Straw Ha—"

"Don't say that name in my presence, peasant! I will not rest until that Godforsaken _criminal _has been added to my collection!"

"Of c-course—"

"Now where's my son!"

Shaluia touched Roswald's arm. "Daddy, they're fixing Brother," she said softly. "You can punish them for being slow later."

The Celestial Dragon let out a choked noise. "Fine. Go; just know if my son is not _perfectly _healed by this surgery, you will face the wrath of the World Nobles."

The doctor was gone before he had even finished his threat, and Saint Roswald slid into a chair helplessly. For all his power and influence, he knew there was nothing more he could do to help his son.

Blinking back tears, Roswald felt bitter rage build up within him. _Straw Hat would pay_.

* * *

"Again."

Fukaboshi, face set in concentration, lifted his training weapon. The oldest prince rushed towards his father, only to be easily batted away for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Neptune helped his son back up. Panting, Fukaboshi threw down his trident in frustration. "It's impossible! I can't do it!"

"Pick it up," Neptune said firmly.

"But Father, I can't!"

"You can."

"I'm not like you!" Fukaboshi shouted. "You're the strongest person in the whole kingdom, and I'll never be that good."

"You can," Neptune repeated. "It takes time, dedication, and practice. And I am not the strongest."

"What?"

"There are many types of strength, Fukaboshi. One man cannot possess them all. That is why soldiers fight together. That is why kings have advisers. I simply try to do what I can to protect the kingdom, and that gives me the drive to keep going forward."

"But…Father…"

Neptune cut him off with a wave of the hand. "I will need your strength someday, Fukaboshi. Just like someday you will need to rely on the strength of your brother. You must never lose faith in your ability, and ask for help when you require it. That is what princes do. That is what _kings _do, and someday you will be king."

Fukaboshi looked up at his father hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. Now pick up your weapon, we are going to try again."

* * *

"Son!"

Saint Mjosgard whipped his head around to the sound of his father. Immediately the Celestial Dragon rushed towards him, and the two hugged each other as best they could around their awkward, bulky suits.

"Father! It was horrible! We crashed, and I nearly _died_, then my bubble broke and I had to bear the stench of that awful place for days…" Mjosgard broke down into inelegant blubbering. His father glared at the mermaid who had accompanied him back to the surface. This was all her fault. Somehow.

"Hush, son. It's over now, and Daddy will make sure you never go through such hardship again."

Mjosgard sniffed, but managed to look up at his father with unshakable trust and a wobbly smile.

* * *

"Arlong?"

The soft, timid voice made Arlong want to hit something. Having just come back from terrorizing the humans stupid enough to walk in the bad side of town, he was very tired. He most certainly didn't want to have to deal with Shyarly right now.

"Nghn," he groaned into his pillow. "Whaddya want?"

"Arlong, I'm scared."

Rolling over, he cracked an eyelid to see his half-sister crouched just inside the doorway, shaking and pale. One of the neighbor's muffled shouts could be heard through the walls, which was followed by a crash as something was thrown in the apartment above theirs.

"Bad dreams?" Arlong asked wryly. Shyarly nodded, looking utterly miserable as she clutched her worn stuffed clownfish doll, the only possession to her name besides the clothes on her back.

"Well, get in," he said, throwing back the sheet. "If you kick me or steal the blanket it's back to the couch."

"Yes, Arlong," Shyarly said, curling on the bed as small as she could.

Arlong didn't say anything until she got settled in. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's dad!" she blurted out. "I saw him…lying somewhere. I think…I think he's dead," she whispered.

Arlong wouldn't put it past the bastard. This arrangement with Shyarly was supposed to be temporary, but promises in the Fishman District were empty and that had been months ago. And since Shyarly's invasion into his life, Arlong had noticed her dreams were strange, not at all what you'd expect out of a little kid. It wasn't like she was clairvoyant or anything, but it was still weird.

Well, she _had _predicted the death of the former king with eerie accuracy.

"Who cares what happens to that asshole? You've got me now," Arlong said with false bravado. He was_ all _she had now, with her mother off dead somewhere and no other family to speak of. It was that or foster care, and there was no way in hell Arlong would subject his baby sister to that. A few got lucky, most…didn't.

Shyarly didn't answer, but snuggled in a little closer. Arlong put a protective arm around her, trying not to think about how utterly screwed they were.

"Oh, and Shyarly? My friends are coming over tomorrow, so don't bug us!"

"Yes, Arlong," she murmured.

"'Night, Shyarly. I'll keep the bad dreams away," Arlong promised. His kid sister mumbled something incomprehensible, already half-asleep.

* * *

Bored of counting the bricks that made up his cell, Roger flopped down on the hard stone floor. Apparently the government thought that a bed was too good for the Pirate King the night before his execution.

_Pirate King_. Roger wasn't really fond of the title, but had to admit it was kind of badass. Still, he wondered if people would actually remember his name after he was gone, or if legend and censorship would bury it into obscurity.

Roger hoped that his name would live on, one way or another.

Thinking of the woman and unborn child he had left behind in the South Blue, Roger rubbed his moustache pensively. Old Garpy had left rather abruptly once the news had been dumped on him, and hadn't been back to visit since, so Roger figured the kid was safe. Terrible rumors were spreading-the type that even made it through prison walls-that the government had stooped to killing babies and their mothers in an attempt to erase the Gol name from the earth.

It was despicable, but there was nothing Roger could do about it. Sure, he could have ordered his crew to do something foolish in retaliation but that wasn't really fair to them. Roger figured his kid was his problem, and although there probably were better people than Garp to trust in by the time Roger had heard the news he had already disbanded his crew.

Still, Garp was a good sport. He'd do it, and probably try and turn the brat into a marine just to spite him.

Ideally the kid would turn out more like its mother. Rouge had a lot going for her: looks, inner strength, the ability to stay awake through meals without falling asleep…Yeah she was pretty much the ideal woman. But Roger did secretly wish his child inherited some things from him, like his insatiable desire for freedom and the strength not to back down from a fight no matter what.

There wasn't much else Roger had to offer. Even if he wasn't scheduled to be executed within the next twelve hours he could feel the shadow of sickness eating him from the inside. No matter what he was going to die, and that was that.

Well, there was one more thing Roger was going to do. He had a plan, a sneaky, devious plan that would turn the world on its head. If he was going down, he was going to go down swinging.

And maybe that was the greatest gift he could give his unborn child: a new world in which he (or she) could find his (or her) way. And it was going to be glorious, which was a shame, because Roger wasn't going to be alive to see it.

Well, he might not be alive, but he sure as hell wasn't going to die, either. His name lived on, his dream would continue, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Roger began to laugh. It was a deep belly laugh that disturbed the poor chaps that had to guard him.

"Listen up boys!" Roger shouted to the guards. "Destiny…fate…dreams…These unstoppable ideals are held deep within the heart of every man! As long as there are people out there to seek freedom in this life, there's no way in hell those things will vanish from the earth!"

The guards were flabbergasted, and took turns poking Roger with the butts of their rifles in an attempt to make him shut up. He grinned like a madman. They had no idea. A new generation was rising, and no matter how the Government tried to suppress it, Inherited Will would live on.

* * *

**AN**: I started writing this the same time as the Mother's Day one, giving me a little more time to come up with some more obscure father/father figure characters. The only one I left out on purpose was Sabo and his dad, because I couldn't think of anything even remotely positive about the situation (it's sad when the Celestial Dragons actually have better interpersonal relationships in regards to family). Even so, as I post this it occurs to me that there is a slight discrepancy between male/female parental figures in One Piece.

Happy Father's Day everyone.


	5. Sister, Sister

Music box: _Touch the Sky, _sung by Julie Fowlis (from the Brave soundtrack); _When You Come Back Down_ by Nickel Creek

Characters: Nami and Nojiko

Rating: K+

Spoilers: Nah

* * *

Every time she came home it was like a weight was lifted off of Nojiko's shoulders.

The effect was only temporary, of course. Nami would always leave, and the endless worry would always return, but the sight of her sister's bright orange hair and careworn smile was a nice reprieve while it lasted.

And while she would never admit it, Nojiko could tell Nami appreciated the attempt of normalcy.

"Soooo," Nami began slyly one such afternoon. They were sitting at the kitchen table, eating lunch like a _regular _family, as if they hadn't a care in the world. Out of respect for Nami's burden, Nojiko was valiantly trying to ignore the greenish-purple bruise on her sister's jaw. Likewise, Nami didn't seem too keen on talking about the most recent misadventures she had experienced in an attempt to raise the required 100,000,000 that would free the village.

It was a delicate understanding they had established over the years, but one that worked. Neither would push the boundaries, for fear of losing something they both desperately needed.

"Yes?" Nojiko asked innocently.

"Talked to any cute guys recently?"

Nojiko snorted. "Please. I should be asking _you_ that very question. As if there are any cute guys on Cocoyashi."

"Uh-uh," Nami said disapprovingly, a devious twinkle in her eye. "A little birdie told me that _you _were talking to the carpenter's apprentice. You know, what's his name…Ty…Tim..Torson…"

Nojiko wondered if her birdie had any aquatic features. "His name is Tommy. And we're not talking, not since he couldn't make it halfway through our first date before getting all touchy-feely with my ass."

Nami laughed. It was a light, real, _free _sound that made her look less cynical and angry, and more like the spirited young girl she had been before Arlong's invasion. Nojiko's lips quirked up into a crooked smile as she leaned on her hands, trying to soak up this version of her sister before it disappeared again, hidden behind the layers of protection she had built in order to survive.

"I'm glad you can see the humor. The guy was a jerk."

"No, that's not why I'm laughing, I swear," Nami gasped. "I'm just trying to imagine it…did you kick his ass?"

"Do you even have to ask?" she retorted, smile widening at the memory. "Tommy-boy won't be bothering anyone anytime soon."

That elicited a fresh wave of giggles, and Nami demanded every detail of Nojiko's ill-begotten 'date'. Nojiko was more than eager to oblige—looking back it _was_ kind of funny—and before long they were swapping stories, laughing, and just acting like sisters should.

There was no mention of maps, fishmen, or tangerine crops. Both women were determinedly focused on staying positive, because once Nami walked out the door and back to her horrible, messed-up life, things would go back to how they had been, with far too much misery and far too little hope.

Time and again Nojiko wished Nami would just run away. Arlong loved money too much to kill off his monthly paycheck. But Nami would never do such a thing; she was too much Bellemere's daughter to abandon her family. And Nojiko knew this hellish existence wouldn't last. If one could make it through the bad times, good would surely follow. Her sister was destined for greatness. Nami's talent far surpassed anything that Cocoyashi could offer, they just had to wait.

So until then Nojiko would ground her. She would be the roots Nami so desperately needed, helping her keep her way on a dark and dangerous path.

Her duty as older sister demanded no less.

* * *

Twilight came too soon, just like always. As the shadows grew longer, Nami felt the tenseness grow in her shoulders, and it took more and more effort to smile. It was nearly time to return to Arlong Park, and she didn't want to go.

But she had to. There was no choice. Arlong offered her freedoms because she kept her end of bargains, and if Nami suddenly stopped coming back when she was supposed to then he was likely to revoke her right to leave at all.

Nojiko noticed. She always did. Smiling sadly, she rose from the kitchen table. "Walk with me?"

"Yeah." Nami's attempt to sound…well, anything, came out flat. Reluctantly, she followed her sister out to the tangerine groves. It looked like a good crop this year, and thinking about Nojiko having to tend to the trees all by herself filled Nami with guilt.

"Thanks for coming by," Nojiko said after a few seconds of unpleasant silence. "It's always nice to see you."

Nami managed a weak smile. "Thanks for having me. I know it's kind of a hassl—HEY! Don't hit me!" she shrieked as Nojiko smacked her upside the head.

"Then don't say stupid things," she said, unrepentant. "You're always welcome here. Always."

"Still, you didn't have to be violent about it," Nami muttered. Inwardly, the words gave a much-needed bolster to her self-confidence. "The trees look beautiful this year."

Reaching up, Nojiko deftly plucked a fruit and tossed it to her sister. "I think they're turning out nicely," she said, sounding more than a little pleased with her efforts.

Nami peeled the tangerine slowly, savoring the experience. A thousand memories flooded her mind, reminding her of happier times. "You do a good job," she said softly. "Better than I ever could."

Stopping short, Nojiko looked at Nami critically, trying to decipher the intention behind the compliment. Sighing softly, she looked up at the darkening sky. "I love it. It's easy to do what you love."

Taking a bite, Nami nodded. She used to believe that too, once upon a time. Maps and navigation had been her love, before Arlong sucked it all away. Still, Nojiko was too much Bellemere's daughter not to take care of these trees as if they were her own children. This little farm was her dream, and Nojiko—while lacking her sister's flashier talents—had the steadfast dedication to make it prosper.

"I just never had the patience," Nami said with a strained laugh.

"You don't have patience for much of anything," Nojiko replied dryly. "It's what makes you…you."

This time Nami's laugh was more genuine. "Thank you." Finishing the last of her tangerine, she wrapped Nojiko in a hug. "Thank you," she repeated. "For everything."

Nojiko returned the embrace wholeheartedly, as if she could hold Nami tight enough to make her stay. "It's nothing," she said, her voice thick. "Don't be a stranger; I'll be here."

Not trusting her voice, Nami just leaned in to her sister's neck. She allowed herself the weakness just for a moment, because if there was anyone in the world who would understand it was Nojiko. A feeling that was like boulders chaining themselves to her soul was settling over her, the weight of her dream threatening to crush her.

She could never stop until she raised 100,000,000 bellies.

"I really have to go. They'll be wondering where I am."

Nojiko squeezed a little tighter before letting go. "I know. See you around, sis."

"Right back at you. Stay safe, Nojiko."

The two sisters parted, one destined for the sea, the other to tend the earth. Both waited for the time they could live their lives freely, but knew that until then they could always depend on one another.


	6. Don't Forget to Smile

Music Box: Absolutely (Story of a Girl) by Nine Days

Character: Koala

Rating: Strong T. I feel kind of weird writing this

Spoilers: For the Fishman Island flashback

* * *

Mariejois was terrifying. Koala and the other women who had been sold with her were all led down a flight of stairs to a dark room that reminded her of a dungeon. She didn't know any of them. Koala had been separated with from everyone else that had been kidnapped with her during the sale. Now she was alone in a group full of people.

They were lined up by height, starting with Koala in front. She shook violently out of fear. The room was oppressively hot, with a massive furnace in the back of the room. Once they had all shuffled in, the heavy door swung shut, and the click of the deadbolt locking echoed through the room.

"Ah, women this time." Koala flinched at the soft, menacing voice. A skinny man immerged out of the shadows, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "Welcome to your Marking."

No one dared to say a word, and that seemed to please him. "You all are now property to the great and noble Saint Deimos. You should feel honored; few get the opportunity to serve such a magnificent man."

With one skeletal finger, he gestured for Koala to come forward. It took all of her courage to do so. He grabbed her chin roughly, examining her from every angle. Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes as he tutted his disapproval.

"The sign of a troublemaker," he noted, pressing a bruise on her cheek. She had gotten that mark when someone had accidently elbowed her in the face in the mad scramble for the measly table scraps that was their dinner. "We don't stand for disobedience here, slave."

"N-no sir," Koala stammered.

He boxed her ears, eliciting a yelp of pain. "You will speak when spoken to. Slaves, like children, are to be seen and not heard." Koala opened her mouth to agree, before promptly shutting it again. The thin man nodded his approval.

"Ah, even the dumbest of animals can learn new tricks. Now smile."

"Smile?"

The remark earned her another smack. "Don't try my patience! You should be _happy _to be here. It is a _delight _for you to preform your tasks each day. A slave who does not smile indicates a slave who is unhappy, and there are no unhappy slaves here! Am I clear?"

Koala froze, unsure of what she was supposed to do. The man's face twisted into a silent snarl, and he grasped the base of her neck with one bony hand. His fingers searched for a moment, before he found what he was looking for and _pinched _the sensitive flesh hard enough she fell to her knees in pain.

"I asked you a question, slave," he asked, his voice soft and dangerous. "_Am I clear_?"

"Y-yes sir!" Koala gasped. "I understand."

He released her at once, smirking. "Good. Now take off your shirt."

She hesitated for only a moment before blind obedience drove her to do as she was told. In the back of her mind Koala could hear the other women mutter amongst themselves, but her focus was on the man standing in front of her. Desperately Koala tried to cover her chest. She was young enough that her sense of modesty hadn't fully developed, but she knew girls were supposed to always keep their shirts on, especially when there were boys around.

"Lean forward," the man said in a sickly sweet voice that made Koala's stomach turn. "And don't forget to smile."

Then he reached into the furnace and grabbed a white-hot poker. Koala's eyes widened as she realized that something very bad was going to happen. "No. No, please, don't. I'll be good, _please_…"

"Slaves should be seen and not heard. Make sure she doesn't move."

Rough arms held her down, and Koala whimpered. "_Please_…"

"_Smile_."

Weakly, Koala forced her facial muscles into a bastardization of a grin. Maybe if she did what the man said it wouldn't hurt so bad. Maybe if she was good she could go home and see her mom again. Maybe if she could pretend hard enough that she wasn't terrified she would wake up from her nightmare.

"Perfection."

Then he pressed the white-hot metal against her back. Pain exploded through Koala's body, and she was unable to hold back a scream. The sickly smell of burnt flesh filled the air, but Koala didn't care. Her back was on fire. Her back was on fire, and it hurt so bad she was sure she was going to die.

The last thing she remembered before falling into blissful unconsciousness was the man's insistent order. She was being punished for not being happy, and if this was what punishment was like she never, _ever_ wanted to experience it again.

So as the blackness ate at the edges on her vision, Koala smiled.


End file.
